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コメント > “Thinkin’ ‘bout it.” He answers. “I want to show the world that I am a man, like you. Father.” “Yeah. Yessir. Dad.” Garrett mutters.
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He gulps once as his dad mounts more pressure on his balls. Squeezing them. He looks down. And then smiles at his dad.

“See this; see this. “His father says. “This is where power comes from.” “I ain’t a-talking ‘bout how big ya cock is, boy. I am talking ‘bout ya, weight. Your height.” His dad says. “I kinda figured on how big you are down there. That’s obvious. It makes me proud of you. My son. Of what I created, along with ya mother.”

Garrett thinks to himself; he did not wear a jock home from practice. He was ‘going commando.” Is it his older brother’s jock? “Oh, well. “He mumbles to himself as he takes another whiff of the musky scented pouch of the jock. “That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks.

“I knew ya couldn’t keep your hands off it.” His dad says. “Men can’t do it, we are drawn to our cocks, like a moth to a flame, and usually that burning sensation that a man feels is the cum boiling up in our balls. You know that feelin’ doncha son?” “You are grown. Yes. Physically. Yes, my son. But a full man. No! No!” His father, says, sharply. “You have much more to grow, to mature, before you are a man, before you can call yourself. A man.”

Garrett resumes the fondling of his cock while he takes long drawn-out whiffs from his sweat, piss and cum stained jockstrap. Garrett does not go hog-wild on his tool. He caresses and adores it like one would an idol.

His dad takes a seat upon the closed commode lid. “But you didn’t though, did you, son?”

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Garrett can see what his father is doing, unconsciously his hands moves to his cock. He strokes the length of his tool with his left hand while he teases the blistering red crown with the fingertips of his right hand. The lightning of his cool fingertips sends sparks through every nerve in his body. “Lookin’ good, son. Lookin’ good.” His dad says over the stream of the warm cleansing water as it caresses his mature man body.

“This is what a man looks like, son.” His father says as his pants fall to the floor. From his waist out pops his representation of a 40-year-old-man. And father of two teenage boys. His cock. His dad’s cock does not curve like that of his son, it angles like a fishing rod looking for fish under rushing river waters, from the deep furry patch between the father’s legs.

“See this; see this. “His father says. “This is where power comes from.” “Yeah.” He answers his dad. “…and I was ‘going commando’ too.”

His son bucks on the lid as he turns beet red from his carnal machinations. Garrett can see what his father is doing, unconsciously his hands moves to his cock. He strokes the length of his tool with his left hand while he teases the blistering red crown with the fingertips of his right hand. The lightning of his cool fingertips sends sparks through every nerve in his body.

“You know what you have to do. Doncha. Son.” His dad says. “Pick it up and smell the crotch.” His dad says.

He reaches and lets his hand glide over his swelled cock. Tickling the head of his bulbous cock with his rough fingertips which sends electric sparks through him and down to his toes. He gulps once as his dad mounts more pressure on his balls. Squeezing them.

He is unfazed by the presence of his dad despite his nakedness inside the hot spray of the shower. He is unfazed by the presence of his dad despite his nakedness inside the hot spray of the shower.

He does not hear the slamming of the front door. Neither does he hear the footsteps on the wood floor in the hallway. The shower drowns away all this noise. His father loosens his grip on the full balls of his son as he stands. He can see the spurts of hair that dot the chest of his son. And he can see the heaving and gentle rise and fall of his son’s chest, as he breathes, as his excitement builds.

That night, I did a whole spa routine to make sure my skin was soft and my ass was stretched and wet. I was wearing nothing but a jockstrap as I was told. Waiting by the door on fourth. My heartbeat was so fast as my mouth was dry. I heard the footstep approaching. I left the door unlocked as one of the instructions I was received from daddy. He stepped in with his size 10 Christian Loublitine loafer where my eyes were going up from there. When I made eye contact with daddy, daddy slapped me across the face and said, “Bad boy, Where the fuck are your sneakers as I told you to wear tonight.” I was trembling and said in a very low voice, “ sorry daddy I fooooorgot.” “That’s it! That’s it! That’s it!” His father bellows.

His father rakes the clear juice of his son’s leaking manhood over the boy’s tensed cockhead. “I bet you got some stares from the other boys in the locker room.” His dad adds. “You couldn’t miss it.”

His father kicks the shoes from his feet and slides his khaki pants off, while still holding, the resistant nut-sac of his virile son in his right hand. He is now as naked as his 17-year-old son. “This is what a man looks like, son.” His father says as his pants fall to the floor. From his waist out pops his representation of a 40-year-old-man. And father of two teenage boys. His cock.

“Nope.” He says. Flatly. As he runs his hand over his still steely-hard length of his curved cock. “That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks.

Garrett nods his head as he wraps the jock over his head, and takes a hearty breathe of the pouch placed over his nose. He reaches and lets his hand glide over his swelled cock. Tickling the head of his bulbous cock with his rough fingertips which sends electric sparks through him and down to his toes.